


Trying My Best

by Trash_Baby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Dean Angst, Dean you need to put down the bottle buddy, Depressed Dean, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, argument, is okay Dean bby, that damn whiskey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Baby/pseuds/Trash_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Dean get into an argument over his drinking problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying My Best

“This is the third time this week!” You shout in disbelief, hands thrown in the air as you glare at the offending item that’s ignited your anger. “Dean, get your ass in here! _Dean!_ ”

Dean comes running into the bedroom that you share, eyes wide as he looks for signs of danger. “What? What is it?”

“Don’t you ‘what is it’ me! You know exactly what ‘it’ is!” You hiss, one hand on hip as the other points in the direction of _it_. The empty bottle of whiskey. 

He lets out a sigh as he throws his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “Seriously? Are we actually going to fight over an empty bottle?”

“Yes.” You bite off, eyes narrowed at his all-too-casual stance. “I think we are.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ll put it in the bin. I didn’t mean to leave it laying around.”

“That’s not the point, Dean!” You exclaim, throwing your hands into the air again. 

“Then what _is_ the point?” He shouts back, glaring at you. “Huh? Tell me!”

“The point is that you’re drinking yourself to death-!” You start, but he cuts you off with a sharp snort of laughter. “Don’t even _think_ about give me that crap about you not being able to die! Each and every time you come back, it’s because you’ve been killed! Killed by some monster - this? This is different though, Dean - you’re killing yourself!”

“And how is that any different when I’m a monster?” He growls, storming forward until he’s backed you up against the wall. “What difference does it make whether I get ripped apart by a hellhound or my body gives out on me? At least this way I get to control it.”

“This is what you call control?” You exclaim, letting out a bubble of disbelieving laughter. “Dean, this is the exact _opposite_ of control!” He glares down at you, breathing heavy, and you stare right back, head tilted back but not cowering. “You need to get some help, baby,” You mutter softly, hoping that your words had gotten through to him and he’d calmed down.

If only you should be so lucky.

“Help? Y/N, I don’t need _help_. I can help myself just fine!” He yells, pushing away to pace for a moment before turning back to you. “Why do you even care?!”

“Because I’m your girlfriend and I love you! That’s why, Dean!” Tears form in the corners of your eyes as you shout, and even though you want to turn away so that he can’t see you cry, you hold strong and maintain eye contact, even when the first tear falls. “I don’t want to see you destroying yourself! I don’t want you to be hurting. I just want you to be happy, Dean…”

“I am… I am happy.” He mutters, and it doesn’t take a genius to see through the lie. 

An unamused laugh falls from your lips as you shake your head. “Dean, stop lying to me.”

“I am happy! _You_ make me happy!” He stares at you earnestly, tense and unmoving, and you know that he’s telling the truth.

“Dean, baby…” You start, voice gentle as you take a step towards him. “I might make you happy - _God knows_ how happy you make me - but that doesn’t make you _happy_. If you were happy, you wouldn’t be drinking a bottle a night in an attempt to get alcohol poisoning. I know you’re hurting, Dean, just…Let me help you. We can do this together. I love you, Dean, so much.”

“I love you too, baby.” He mumbles, pulling you close to his chest to press a kiss to your temple.

Smiling softly into his chest, you wrap your arms as tightly around him as possible. “Good.” Tilting your head back, you make eye contact, both of your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “So, you gonna put down the bottle and pick me up instead?” 

He laughs at the terrible pun, but nods, tucking your head under his chin. “I’ll try my best, baby, for you.”

“That’s a good start,” You hum, pressing a kiss to his chest through his shirt, before whispering quietly, “I’ll heal you, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> an angst-y prompt I recieved on my tumblr a while ago
> 
> Originally posted at - http://pie-is-deanlicious.tumblr.com/post/141954244115/trying-my-best


End file.
